


Forget-Me-Not

by LeafThoj



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Forget-Me-Not, M/M, Memory Loss, Rape/Non-con Elements, Teen Derek Hale, sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-02-14 14:31:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2195355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeafThoj/pseuds/LeafThoj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beating the evil fox spirit was a feat that would take many nightmares and panic attacks before Stiles ever slept properly again. Add into his new relationship with Malia, the stress may be getting to him. Stiles' only way to feel safe is to keep working, and going over things he'd already gone over. Most of his memory is intact it would seem, but the fox spirit must have left something in the dark--he must have done something because Stiles cannot remember a factor in the Hale House fire.</p><p>That factor was Derek Hale, one of the only survivors from the fire--being that he wasn't actually in it but had the torturous luck to watch it. Problem is, Stiles cannot remember him--cannot even see him. At least not always. When Stiles is so tired he goes to sleep, he's refreshed enough to seek Derek for a time. Usually at midnight, since that's when Stiles wakes up from his nightmare. There isn't much Derek can do, hell they don't have much of a relationship between themselves besides the occasional need to screw someone that Derek has. So why is Stiles remembering him so important?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Forget-Me-Not

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Events occur after Season 3 Finale (3x24) and before Season 4 Premiere (4x01), connecting when Derek was "kidnapped" (so this may not exactly fit the timeframe exactly, but should work for fanfic purposes)  
> Edited: 12/4/2015

Ever since things changed for Scott, everything changed for Stiles. Only, he kept thinking something was missing. He wasn’t sure what. They defeated Peter and managed somehow—fumbling through the supernatural life of a werewolf along their way. They took out the Alpha and even the kitsune fiasco… but something was definitely missing.

At first he thought that maybe because Danny was publically gay that he started being weird. Stiles didn’t think too much about his dreams. After all it only happened at night, and not usually either. It was just here and there, and never on a regular basis. Just whenever that guy felt like showing up which was at random hours and mostly when Stiles was tired or sleepy. It wasn’t weird to dream of another guy… probably.

At least until tonight Stiles had thought it was all dreams. He would wake up in the middle of the night and see him lying next to Stiles just watching, his eyes glowing blue in the dark as he stared at Stiles. But tonight was different. Stiles had been awake when he materialized on top of the sheets.

He was silent as usual. Stiles was usually the one who talked, since Stiles was usually a nervous wreck. He’d been up most of his nights—he was afraid to go to sleep after the kitsune situation. Actually, that was what was bothering him. He never saw _him_ since before the kitsune problem.

“Did you just-” Stiles was going to ask but he wasn’t really sure what to ask. Perhaps something like: _are you even real?_ Although that was stupid since no one else ever saw him.

The man—tall, dark and incredibly handsome—got off Stiles’ bed and took two strides towards him. Stiles wanted to object and mention something about Malia, for whatever reason he didn’t even know why the excuse came up. Especially since after what had been happening he wasn’t so sure what he could even say about Malia. She was preoccupied with trying to control her powers and understanding humanity.

The man brushed his knuckles against Stiles’ jaw line. Stiles fought back the shiver that wanted to echo throughout his body.

“Stiles,” the man said in a low, almost guttural voice. Stiles turned back to the board, trying to hide his embarrassment as he did so. Some part of him was happy to hear the man call out his name. It was the first thing he’d ever said to Stiles. “Stiles,” he called again. This time as his presence came closer the man’s arms suddenly wrapped around Stiles’ body. “You need to rest.”

“No, I need to figure this out,” Stiles grumbled. He traced the red tape he’d set up previously. “It’s all pointing to the Hales. There’s something missing…” He talked to the apparition a lot. Stiles didn’t see any harm in it. It was like talking to himself, and it wasn’t like it was there for very long anyway. In a couple of moments the man was going to disappear.

“Stiles, you’ll remember but right now…”

His voice was fading from Stiles’ ear. See? He was disappearing again. The man left like that often.

“…you need to…”

And then he was gone.

Stiles sighed, running his hands down his face and pinching the top of his nose between his eyes. His headache was growing from being awake for so long. He hasn’t slept in almost sixty hours. He didn’t want to sleep though. He was afraid if he did he wouldn’t wake up, that he would be stuck inside himself again like that time with the _nogitsune_.

 

Derek slammed his fist against the wall of Stiles’ bedroom. Dammit. After months of waiting and trying he finally made the connection again but Stiles had been too tired to keep up. The idiot. He couldn’t even remember Derek for fuck’s sakes. He even… with the coyote… with someone else.

He sat on Stiles’ bed and watched as Stiles struggled with the nonsense of the “missing” piece. All Stiles needed to do was rest and remember. Rest and _see_ Derek.

Derek strode back towards the board and where Stiles stood pacing about, running his hand through his hair as he pulled at the light brown strands. He took a bracing breath and reached out towards Stiles, missing the boy completely.

“Stiles!” Derek growled. His usual violence wouldn’t work on Stiles anyways, not when Stiles didn’t even know he existed. Literally. Everyone said to just leave it if Stiles couldn’t see or hear Derek at all, but this was getting ridiculous. The kid couldn’t even remember him. Derek couldn’t even _touch_ Stiles, something about a residual fox magic.

“Why?” Stiles suddenly asked with a pause.

For a moment Derek thought Stiles could hear him, but his hope was quickly dashed. Stiles was talking to himself. Jittering like he always was.

“Why can’t I figure this out?” he shouted.

The sheriff rushed into the bedroom, sighing when he realized it was just his son going crazy over his ridiculous web of connections again.

“Stiles,” the sheriff waved at his son to get into bed. For just a moment he glanced at Derek, but Stiles noticed this the way he noticed the dumbest things. He turned towards Derek but it was obvious the way he stared that he saw right through Derek to the wall behind him. “Get some rest son.” The relief on the Sheriff's face told Derek exactly what the man had been hoping would happen when Stiles turned around. He couldn't see him.

“I… I can’t sleep.”

“You will.”

The sheriff walked out and Derek followed him into the hall.

“Are you stalking my son?” the man asked, giving Derek a serious look. Derek heard the way "stalking" was emphasized, as if somehow the older man felt like Derek was some sort of danger to Stiles. In a way he probably was. Beacon Hills itself was a danger to anyone, but still no one has ever talked about leaving this place. Especially not Stiles who he once thought of as weak and skinny. Stiles was physically weak, but the kid was smart. His strength laid underneath all that sarcasm and jittering.

“I can’t do anything to him,” Derek answered him. For some reason only Derek and Stiles weren’t allowed to touch each other and passed through each other like ghosts, but they were both as much in this world as the next person. “It’s only until he can see me.”

The sheriff sighed dejectedly. He nodded as if he wanted to disagree but had no other choice but to let the decision stand.

“Fine. Fine.” He gave up and ceded to Derek’s will. He backed down the hall towards his own bedroom. “At least make sure he goes to sleep and school properly.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” he managed for the sheriff’s sake. The older man sighed, as if giving up, and walked back into his own bedroom almost as if he’d lost all hope anything would go back the same way it used to be.

 

Stiles grumbled and smacked his lips as he twisted towards the middle of the bed. He froze in place the moment he took note of the man lying in his bed in very close proximity to him. Very close and very real.

“You…”

The man opened his eyes sleepily. They glowed blue. Not red the way an Alpha’s was, and not yellow like other wolves… They were like Jackson’s eyes. Blue eyes meant that he’d taken an innocent life.

“Go back to sleep Stiles,” the man moaned, seeming to half roll his eyes before pulling Stiles closer to his body. Were they… Oh God they were. He was snuggling with another man. Just…

Stiles felt the panic attack rising in him. He was starting to lose his breath, and all he could try to do was think about where he last put his inhaler and if he was drugged. Then he of course remembered he didn’t have an inhaler and no way of being drugged in his own house without wanting to be.

“Sleep,” the man growled into Stiles’ ear. He hitched up his shoulders in fear. “Or I’m going to rip your throat out.” Stiles held himself very still at that moment. He heard that line before somewhere.

Stiles felt the answer revealing itself. He moved out of bed and crawled over the man who groaned angrily. Ignoring him he raced back to the board filled with the incidents in the past years and their connections to certain people.

He traced his finger against the red tape that connected to one missing element, tracing back to the Hale House.

“Something…” Stiles knew it was there. It was on the tip of his tongue. He just couldn’t… “Missing…” He mumbled. He looked at Malia Tate’s picture. “Something… Something…”

“No no no no no no no! NO!” Stiles twirled and gasped. He lost it, he lost the answer…

When morning came Stiles was not happy. In fact he was angry. He’d gotten a few hours of sleep in but then he’d woken up to being so close to figuring out what was wrong. Stiles was used to frustration be this was a kind of frustration he could not stand.

“Scott,” Stiles grabbed his friend over the chest and yanked him closer as he wrapped an arm around Scott’s shoulders. “You know something.”

“What do I know?” Scott asked, looking mildly confused like always. He probably didn’t know this but sometimes he looked like he was constipated.

“Come on buddy,” he smacked Scott a little harder than normal. “You, my dad, everyone acts like there’s something…” he never got the chance to finish because he noticed the direction Scott was looking wasn’t exactly at him. It was like someone else was standing just by Stiles.

Turning he attempted to catch a glimpse, but he saw no one. The overconfident kid Liam had walked past with his friend, but that was about it. There wasn’t really anyone around that they knew so who could have Scott been looking at?

“You just looked…” he tried to urge for a response but Stiles didn’t really know what to say. Scott didn’t know how to compose himself since he was an awkward kid, but he managed to wring himself from Stiles and made some half-assed excuse to go see Kira.

Stiles stifled the curse by puffing out his cheeks as he punched the air. He felt some resistance as his fist swung at nothing, as if there was some kind of thickness in front of him. He couldn’t see if there was anything there and as he looked around no one was bothered by him and the nothingness either.

So Stiles turned and walked away. Class was going to start, and he couldn’t let himself fall asleep.

 

Stiles jerked the moment he was conscious before he’d even opened his eyes. How could he had let himself fall asleep? He’d just sat on his bed for a moment to think but he was lying under his covers in his pajamas. Had his dad…?

“Ugh, go back to sleep Stiles.”

He looked around but he didn’t see anything. He heard that deep voice. It sounded half asleep. It sounded like the voice from yesterday. _His_ voice. Stiles started to kick off his blankets so he could make it back to the board he’d been staring at all day.

Then he heard a growl and before he realized it Stiles was lying back in bed, and the man was on top of him.

“You…” Stiles struggled but lost to the superior werewolf strength. “Get off.” Stiles struggled in futility, before stopping to wonder how he knew the man was a werewolf.

“If I can touch you, then you can see me,” the man said. His green eyes staring into Stiles’ own. “I need you rested or you won’t be able to see me.”

Stiles had no idea what the man was talking about. He was getting irritated though. He needed to find that missing person connected to everything.

“Your head, Stiles,” the man held him down with more strength as he urged him to listen. “What exactly do you think you’ve been trying to solve these past months?”

Finally Stiles paused, listening to what the man was saying.

“Look, I don’t know if you’re some kind of…” Stiles searched for the words, “supernatural werewolf stalker or whatever but…” Stiles struggled against the man’s hold. More than anything Stiles was beginning to realize what kind of situation he was in, and exactly whose crotch sat against his.

“For someone who forgot the most important person I don’t think you have a say,” the man replied with a bossy attitude. He grabbed Stiles by the jaw and forced their lips to lock.

When Stiles finally gasped for breath the man stuck his tongue in. It rove around Stiles’ mouth, tickling the roof his mouth before sliding alongside the top of Stiles’ tongue—it felt amazing. Stiles hadn’t even realized he was holding onto the man’s shirt until the man pulled away and Stiles tried to pull him back for more.

“Your body remembers.” The man had a smug smile but it was unbelievably charming. That kind of smile was just impossible—it was illegal. It had to be. Stiles had never felt such strong feelings towards someone except for Lydia and that wasn’t even as much as with… as with…

“Who?” Stiles paused to ask himself. He was close again to the answer. It was on the tip of his tongue.

“Shut up,” the man grabbed Stiles’ jaw and yanked it up for another kiss. This one was quick but rough—claiming. “You never call out my name anyways.”

“I… what?!”

The man’s shirt was already thrown onto the floor by the time Stiles managed to regain some composure. He gulped audibly as he watched the man unbuckle his jeans and shoved them and his briefs past his hips.

Wait, wait, wait! That wasn’t what his concern was. He needed to collect himself. Except with who did he have such feelings for? Malia? No, it was… Who did he have feelings for? _HAD_ feelings for.

“You’ve been hiding away looking at the past,” the man grumbled. He pulled off Stiles’ t-shirt and pressed him down into the bed with a hand to Stiles’ throat. It was aggressive and yet Stiles felt his skin heating up, anticipating the man’s touch. _Wanting_ the man’s touch.

He gasped when the man licked down Stiles’ neck, tracing a vein. He felt his heart skip a beat, unsure what the werewolf had planned. His hands were at the man’s waist now, and Stiles felt himself shaking underneath the glowing blue gaze.

“Your eyes…”

The man blinked and his eyes returned to normal. Stiles could barely see the green with only the starlight shining through his window. He felt oddly captivated, as if it was the first time seeing this chiseled body—and yet knowing every inch as if he himself sculpted it.

 

He’d been mostly quiet through the ordeal. Derek had been unable to handle waiting. Stiles had kept quiet, gasping for breath each time Derek’s thrust was a little too rough or too much. It was the same reaction Stiles had before he’d forgotten Derek.

Stiles was a wired little kid with too much energy most of the time, but he was also surprisingly passionate. Derek knew this. It was what attracted him to this human who held immeasurable faith and loyalty in Scott—a turned werewolf, someone who in the beginning of his phase had been dangerous. That passion… that flame to always believe and hope against all odds gave Derek a glimpse of innocence and naiveté he’d long since forgotten. It was different from the kind of naiveté he’d seen in Scott, because he knew that Stiles also understood how the line blurred between doing what was right and justice.

Derek was fascinated with Stiles, and before he knew it they had a physical relationship. Like a moth seduced by an open flame.

He knew it’d been a long time since they last been together. Stiles looked pained as Derek finally managed to bury himself completely inside Stiles. Derek should had spent more time with the foreplay, easing Stiles back into taking Derek’s shape but…

“Ouch…” Stiles groaned as he arched off the bed. His hands were clutching to the bed sheets. Silent endurance. How many times had Stiles endured?

The times he’d put himself in danger and lied for those he cared about. The times where he’d been hurt and threatened, witnessed people killed, been saved, been kidnapped, possessed, and risked his own life to save not just Scott’s life but his best friend’s very soul… Stiles was amazing and he was human. He was the greatest creation, and sometimes Derek just couldn’t stand knowing that. He couldn’t stand that others would know it either.

Why couldn’t Stiles remember him? The nogitsune’s mental head game shouldn’t have gotten to Stiles. Not in this way. Who could have possibly…?

Derek decided to wait a little longer. It had been too long since their last time together. Much too long. Derek was normally rough with Stiles, even with sex. He always made sure to be careful even when he was rough. It wasn't exactly like he could be gentle and loving with the kid who looked at him like a beast. He didn’t want to bother Stiles with all the mess either so he’d always worn a condom. This time was different. He couldn’t be rough but he also hadn’t cared about putting on a condom. This really was like having a first time together again.

“You…” Stiles gasped. His eyes were closed and it looked like he was telling himself to take easy breaths to pull through with having Derek’s member inside his hole. “You could have put on a condom…”

Derek bit back a smile. Stiles once brought up being a virgin when Derek had fished out a condom from his pocket. He’d known Stiles was hinting towards unprotected sex, but Derek hadn’t wanted to be bothered with cleaning up later. The condom was an easy and sure way to clean up fast, and it left Stiles clean.

“I can’t get sick, Stiles.” Derek brushed the back of one knuckle against Stiles’ erect nipple. The kid gasped for breath and his back arched involuntarily towards Derek again. Derek knew all Stiles’ hot spots that had him panting for breath, all his weak points that made his knees buckles, and he especially knew the place to keep thrusting towards to drive Stiles crazy even if Stiles never said a word.

He moved his hand to wipe away the tears falling down Stiles’ eyes. It must hurt to have Derek inside. He hadn’t even bothered preparing him properly much less the foreplay before he’d entered. Patience was something Derek was sorely short of lately.

“You never make a noise even when you are feeling good,” Derek sighed. He pushed a little to see whether Stiles’ reaction was pain or pleasure. It all looked like pain though, whether Derek was moving in or out, whether he touched Stiles’ good places or kissed him. “It’s no different than any other time.”

Derek kissed Stiles’ lips, somewhere inside he couldn’t bear to kiss Stiles the way he used to. If he did and Stiles didn’t react he would be torn apart inside out.

 

What was with the gentleness? Stiles knew it hurt like hell when the man penetrated but… it was straining to wait for him to move inside Stiles. Actually a lot of places hurt Stiles, it constricted deep in his core. The way the man moved, where he touched and his kisses. Those gentle kisses were almost unbearable. It felt so sad.

“Hot…” he gasped as the man slowly backed out of Stiles’ anus, only to slowly move back in.

He grinded his teeth at the excruciating pain and the sensation that sparked throughout his body as if carrying electrical waves to every end of his limbs. Then he realized as the man continued to move in and out slowly that the feeling was actually his veins pulsing and him rocking gently back and forth.

“So hot…” Stiles gasped for breath again. It felt like something heavy was on top of his bare chest, but the man’s weight was off him except where they were connected. The blankets were underneath them and the man was going at it so slowly he wasn’t sure where the heat was all coming from.

Stiles suddenly opened his eyes when he remembered his dad was out tonight on duty. While here his son was getting raped by a werewolf. Okay maybe not exactly rape since Stiles wasn’t exactly saying no, and if asked he would probably say “don’t stop”. The issue was the fact that Stiles didn’t seem to want the werewolf to go away, and in fact he felt glad his father wouldn’t be walking in on them. He kind of wished it’ll keep going.

The man was progressively moving faster. It still hurt… quite a lot too, whenever the man moved but it felt like something was also slowly building up with the thrusts.

He watched the frustrated expression the man was making. His dark brows creasing, his clean-shaven jaw—which seemed odd to Stiles for some reason—was visibly showing the tick the man tried hard not to show as he held himself back. The man’s muscular arms were set next to Stile’s head to leverage him above Stiles. One arm moved to hoist up Stiles’ waist as he moved a little faster inside Stiles.

Stiles wanted more. More from the man. Why were they in the closest way possible and yet so distant from each other at the same time?

Stiles gasped for breath as the man was easily able to move in and out of Stiles. He couldn’t move completely into Stiles without stretching him but when the man did it he hit the spot that shot pleasure into Stiles.

“Hot…” he gasped again. He turned his head and bit his knuckles before peeking up at the man on top of him. “So hot.” The man was attractive, Stiles bet girls fell for his dark, moody, lone wolf act all the time. Hell, Stiles could fall for it too if the man was less commanding.

Stiles grabbed the man by the back of the neck and pulled him down for a kiss. He was already lowering himself down to kiss Stiles, but Stiles knew it would be that unbearably gentle kiss. He licked the man’s lips, nipped at them and then dove his tongue inside as the man had done before with his earlier kiss. Only Stiles wanted something worth it.

Who’d ever heard of rapists—okay NOT a rapist, maybe a sexual extorter?—going gentle and easy on their victims like easing in virgins? If Stiles was going to get raped—okay, fine _devoured_ —by a hot guy and have a penis inside his anus he might as well have it done amazingly.

After moments of Stiles roving his tongue inside the man’s heated mouth, their kiss finally turned into a whirlwind of passion. It felt like some kind of kissing battle for top.

_Wait. Wait!_

Stiles couldn’t keep up with the man. He tried to stop their kissing but the moment he took in a sharp breath the man was kissing him again. Stiles was so focused on their long, deep kisses he hadn’t noticed the man’s thrusts were suddenly erratic.

How the man moved inside Stiles built up that earlier feeling higher and higher even more quickly. Stiles realized he was holding on tightly to the man, his nails were digging into his skin but he couldn’t make himself let go.

“Derek…” he gasped for breath but there was a sudden pause. As he regulated his pulse he realized everything hadn’t stopped because the man had found his release. Everything stopped because Stiles had said something. Something…

“Derek…?” he repeated as he looked into the man’s eyes.

It looked like the man, Derek was searching for something in Stiles’ eyes. He could tell all Derek’s tension had turned to pudding the way he slowly slumped towards Stiles now. Reaching up all he wanted to do was touch that shaved jaw-line, and feel how Derek’s stubs were waiting to appear later in the morning.

“Derek,” he called out more confidently. Derek swooped in and kissed him. This kiss claimed Stiles, stole his breath and released him all at the same time. It wasn’t a long-lost-lover kind of kiss. It wasn’t an I-miss-you kiss either. It was just Derek’s usual kiss—the kiss Stiles forgot until now.

Slowly his memories flooded behind his closed eyelids. Stiles felt the tears stinging his eyes. He clutched to Derek tightly.

Derek… 


	2. I Remember You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Events occur after Season 3 Finale (3x24) and before Season 4 Premiere (4x01), connecting when Derek was "kidnapped" (so this may not exactly fit the timeframe exactly, but should work for fanfic purposes)  
> edited: 12/4/2015

Derek…

Stiles felt like he was going to go crazy. Derek was inside him as memories overflowed. All memories of Derek, memories he somehow lost. Realizing this now hurt like hell. More than the stretching of his anus with Derek’s hard cock.

Hard and bare. Damn, there goes another memory. An _embarrassing_ memory. He groaned, pulling Derek closer because he could see him now.

“You remember my name,” Derek breathed against Stiles’ warmed skin.

Stiles moaned. He hadn’t recognize it until he noticed Derek’s eyes widening. It was the first time he’d made noise while doing it. It was indescribable the way Stiles felt the embarrassment heating up his face again.

Derek suckled one of Stiles’ nipples, and he groaned. His balls tightened even more and Stiles swore he was turning purple from straining. Derek never so much as put his lips lower than Stiles’ collarbone before.

“Oh God…” Stiles moaned. He lifted his arms to cover his face.

Derek paused. Stiles didn’t want him to stop but he was too embarrassed to say anything.

“What?”

Stiles bit the bottom of his lips. “I’m remembering…” Stiles mumbled, losing his voice because of the strange pressure and push somewhere in his pelvic area.

It wasn’t as if Derek wouldn’t have heard him. Werewolf and all.

There was a pause. Excruciating torture was more like it. Derek had stopped his thrusting again, and instead of pleasure-pain Stiles felt an unnecessary need to move himself to reach his climax.

“So?”

Stiles nearly jumped when Derek’s hand encircled Stiles’ cock. “OH MY-” he started to shout but breathed out and slowly calmed himself. He was already sitting up and Derek’s boyish grin was staring him in the face. “God…” Stiles groaned with annoyance this time as he fell back onto the bed. “Really…” Stiles rolled his eyes at Derek still grinning. “Really?!” he asked more harshly.

“Just shut up and let me fuck you,” Derek laughed. This time his hand moved and rubbed Stiles’ dick in procession with his thrusts inside Stiles. Stiles could remember the few other times Derek had done him the same way, but this was different.

All the other times Derek had mostly done him against a wall from behind. Once in a public bathroom stall and Stiles had bit into his own arm to keep from making any noise. Another was sideways at night in the boy’s locker room. This time was different, because they were in bed and Derek was looking at him. Staring him right in the eyes, and all Stiles could do was close his eyes and try to hide his face behind his arms.

The way Derek touched him hadn’t changed, but the way Stiles felt each touch had. Each touch burned the memories back into place. Memories of the other times he and Derek had been together, screwing, fucking, whatever _anyone_ wanted to call it. It left him gasping, screaming even and he swore he was grateful no one was in the house.

He let his barriers down. And it felt amazing.

Derek was doing him bareback, touching him and kissing him in places as if he was some kind of fragile pottery that needed to be inspected of the tiniest cracks.

Stiles almost felt like crying the first time he screamed and released without warning. He wanted to cry and scream but didn’t know which and ended up gasping for breath voicelessly as Derek continued to pound into him.

 

Derek woke up realizing he was still buried inside Stiles. They both collapsed exhausted after three rounds.

He slowly tried to pull out despite how much he wanted to stay inside Stiles. It wasn’t as if it felt good staying inside when he was limp. Derek just didn’t want to stop touching Stiles after so long but he had to.

Before, when they had sex it was always quick and rough. Derek never stayed the night. The rare times they were in Stiles’ bed Stiles pretended to sleep and Derek would pretend he didn’t know Stiles was, and would sleep next to Stiles for a bit. When Stiles had fallen asleep Derek would spend the time slowly learning every part of Stiles’ body before putting the kid’s pajama’s back on to not rouse suspicion with the sheriff. Then Derek would sneak out.

Stiles moaned then grumbled when Derek was disengaged from him. He slowly moved out of bed, keeping an eye and an ear on Stiles. It was already three in the morning.

Slipping on his jeans Derek crept out to the bathroom in the sheriff’s house for a wet towel to clean up the mess left inside Stiles.

As he walked back Derek was greeted with a sudden view of Stiles’ backside. For some reason Stiles had flipped from his side onto his stomach. He was deep into sleep and completely unaware.

Derek climbed the queen-size again and started with cleaning up the mess in Stiles. He sighed heavily as he slowly began with the task. He never had to concern with the task before—cleaning up his partner. One-night-stands were like that. There was only compassion for so long until they each came. He knew his sexual relationship with Stiles would be different. It meant making sure the younger man—a human—wasn’t harmed but…

“Am I bleeding?” Stiles gurgled as Derek was reaching a finger inside Stiles. Derek had wanted to ask when Stiles had woken up but then stopped himself. Instead Derek continued with the task trying to hide the smile that involuntarily lit up when he realized Stiles was awake.

He glanced at Stiles’ previously flaccid member as it began to harden. Derek reacted but he wasn’t about to continue further now that Stiles remembered him. Instead he finished his task and walked away with the damp cloth.

When Derek came back into Stiles’ room he found Stiles under the covers. He climbed over the lump in the bed and embraced Stiles around the waist.

“I just remembered I forgot…” Stiles grumbled under the blankets.

Derek did his best not to laugh. Stiles knew him as the mean-faced werewolf, it wouldn’t do to shatter that image anytime soon.

…It probably didn’t do to tell him how much he just wanted to be with Stiles.

“Let me die,” Stiles moaned under the covers.

“Go to sleep, you need to rest,” Derek managed to say as remotely as possible. He wanted to sound removed, and full of power. This was how Stiles knew him. And… he was afraid. Afraid Stiles would confuse who Derek really was with his regained memories. Afraid Stiles would forget him again. Worse, that he would wish Derek never appeared in front of him again.

Derek held Stiles like this, the boy too embarrassed to get out from under the covers. Eventually they both fell into a deep sleep again. He slept listening to the erratic yet familiar heart beats of the human in his arms. Such a strong heart, pure and human.

His alarm went off some time through the night. He’d been waiting for some news and a delivery. Derek got up, dressed himself and left the same way he came. Through the window. He walked the few blocks where he parked his car so no one would get suspicious when he came around Stiles’ place. Then drove to the designated meeting spot to meet the deliveryman.

He made the exchange with his usual expressionless countenance. He checked the contents in the special case it came in. The item was properly transported and kept fresh. Derek gave the deliveryman his shush money and the money for the person he bought the item from.

“It was a rough job acquiring that,” the man said as he climbed into his armored truck. He popped his head out the window, his companion waiting in the passenger seat quietly. “Not exactly the type of thing we’re usually asked to deliver.”

“I paid you enough not to talk,” Derek glared at the man. He didn’t need anyone’s opinion of how strange the lengths he went for the particular item. It wasn’t exactly an important item to begin with either.

He’d ordered if before tonight. A week ago when Stiles just couldn’t see Derek and everything felt lost. It had been his only hope—if anything, sentimental hope.

Derek figured he would drop off the item where he’d originally intended it. Then he would head back to his apartment.

 

_“These hunters they caught Peter and me after we left Cora.”_

_…_

_“They broke into my loft…”_

_…_

_…_

“Where’s the She-wolf?”

…

…

_“Derek, if this is all just a dream, then why are you so worried?”_

_“Because I don’t remember waking up!”_

_…_

Stiles gasped as he woke up hours later. Wasn’t he naked earlier while Derek was washing him? Where was Derek? Wait, wasn’t it only like 4 in the morning?

He fought through his blanket-cocoon and looked around. Where Derek had been sleeping earlier was empty and cold. Was he real? No way was everything a figment of gay imagination. Not that kind of intensity.

Stiles looked around for some indication he hadn’t made Derek up. Something to prove he wasn’t bat-shit crazy again. Stiles raced for his phone on his desk and hastily, with his hands shaking in the process, called Scott.

“What’s wrong?” Scott answered his call in a heartbeat once it connected. Honestly he shouldn’t have bothered Scott at all, because Scott was still going through losing Allison and being attracted to Kira.

“Scott! Scott!” Stiles found himself gasping for his best friend’s name. He gripped his pajama pants tightly, sitting at his desk, staring through the see-through board of connections he’d created.

“Breathe, Stiles,” Scott rasped on the phone. He obviously had just gotten out of bed.

“Is he real?” Stiles gasped, biting his knuckles to keep himself together. He was already jittering and he could barely keep himself from cry-whimpering, but that wasn’t the best thing to focus on.

“Who?” Scott sounded confused and hesitant. It was that hint in his voice again, like Scott knew something he didn’t. “What happened Stiles?”

“Scott don’t lie to me,” he groaned, his hand moving over him as he tried to breathe. It felt like his panic attack was coming around again. “Don’t… Don’t lie,” he repeated again. How did he use to calm himself during an attack?

“Calm down, Stiles,” Scott repeated slowly to him.

“Is. Derek. Real?”

There was a pause on the line. Everything was silent, and Stiles could hear himself beginning to cry. The tears were blurring his eyesight but he wiped them away as quickly as possible.

It felt like an entire hour of silence before either of them said anything. They just let the silent hang, and usually Stiles would have said to fill in the quiet. He bit his lips and held back, because he needed the answer. He needed a straight answer from his best friend.

“…Yes.”

Stiles let out the breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. “Oh god…” Stiles groaned as he slid off his roller chair onto the carpet floor. “He’s real,” Stiles gasped.

“D-Do you remember Derek?” Scott asked.

“Yea. And you and I,” Stiles indicated with his finger with an imaginary Scott in front of him despite that he had his PJs on and no underwear, “we’re going to have a talk about keeping things from me later,” Stiles said as he got up to his feet, regaining some composure. He struggled back to his bed and pulled his blankets off.

There he saw it, nearly crushed under the pillow and the blanket. It was there, where Stiles remembered Derek had been. Stiles’ eyes moved quickly to the window, only to realize it was slightly open—as if someone had closed it from the outside.

_“Forget me not,” I know you said,_

_And I was aching with the need_

“Scott…” Stiles rasped. His previous state of relief had hitched up into close panic and urgency again. Why didn’t they ever have a break from all of this supernatural crap?

He grabbed the flowers from off his bed, staring at the rarity of it in this season. The nearly azure blue petals and yellow budded flowers were tied with a small red ribbon into a small bouquet. The flowers laid in his hands, their meaning clear.

“Scott…” Stiles repeated, this time nearly in tears. He couldn’t control his emotions welling inside. The flowers were like a hopeless prince begging on his knees, a beaten and starving dog lying on the front porch of a stranger for scraps—the flowers were everything in the past months…

_To cry that I could not forget –_

_So deeply planted was the seed_

 “What’s wrong, Stiles?”

He could already hear how Scott was in the background, putting on clothes, shoes, grabbing his keys and ready to set out towards Stiles. It was Scott after all.

“Tell me,” his best friend gently urged.

Stiles gasped for breath. He tried to steel himself as he spoke.

“I…” he almost lost his voice and the little composure he had at that moment. Stiles bit the back of his knuckles for a quick second to collect himself. “I think someone took Derek.”

“How do you know?” Scott asked, sounding as if he’d paused just outside his own porch.

It felt like Stiles’ heart was being torn out of his heart. Just thinking that Derek—when he finally had had him—remembered him again… Stiles moved his lips but he couldn’t get his voice to work.

How did he know? Gut feeling. Instinct. Whatever you call it. He just knew. The flowers said even more. Derek never gave him anything, and if he was going to he would have shown up by now. He would have watched from afar, like he always was, and would have come by now when he saw the way Stiles was freaking out.

_That it would germinate in drought_

_Or in soil too chocked by weeds_

“I’ll check his loft,” Scott said over the line. He didn’t prompt for an explanation any further. He just went with it.

 Stiles dropped his phone on the bed and clutched the flowers.

“Where the _hell_ did you go this time?” he cried.

_For any other plant. “Forget_

_Me not,” you said – and I agreed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Forget me not,” I know you said,  
> And I was aching with the need  
> To cry that I could not forget –  
> So deeply planted was the seed  
> That it would germinate in drought  
> Or in soil too chocked by weeds  
> For any other plant. “Forget  
> Me not,” you said – and I agreed.
> 
> \- Giles Watson, “Forget Me Not” excerpt


	3. I Can't Forget

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These events occur between/during season 4 episode 2, when Derek has been reverted to a teenager.  
> edited: 12/7/2015

_“Derek.”_

Something kept repeating over and over in his head.

_“Derek?”_

Different moments in time. They were all going dark, unique in their own way. Repeating the same thing over and over.

_“Derek—you…”_

Over and over and over again.

_“Come on, Derek!”_

All of those moments and more were going dark, like they were being stolen into a black hole.

 _“Derek…”_ this time it echoed… soft—broken, almost, desperate and clinging onto him. He knew this voice. Knew it somehow…

Kept wanting it to remember him.

 

They were in a rush, Stiles knew that. He had to speed and he had to make sure that no one noticed the extent of his feelings. It started raining when they crossed the border but it felt like hours ago. The sound of the rain falling against the windshield, Derek unconscious in the front passenger seat. All Stiles wanted to do was hold his hand but he had to control his emotions and like always, use his head. It was all he had against Banshees, Werewolves, coyotes, foxes, and hell supernatural-freaking-hunters! That, and his usual sarcasm. Sarcasm wasn’t as great a superpower.

But young, teenager Derek though. He was hot—in a cute, young, my-age kind of way. Stiles really tried not to hyperventilate or go into a panic attack. Focus. Focus.

Kate Argent. Derek’s ex-slu—er… girlfriend. The others were talking to Deaton and explaining the situation, trying to figure it out, while Stiles tried not to show too much urgent emotions or the fact he was unbelievably attracted to teenager Derek. Focus.

Stiles decided to start ticking off the number of times Derek had been kidnapped already.

Stiles couldn’t quite remember anything afterwards. He went most of the next day talking about Malia, going crazy—but sanely in no romantic way—about young Derek, while trying to act as normal as possible. It didn’t all exactly work out when they found out Derek had attacked Deaton and ran off after waking up. Apparently he didn’t just turn into a teenager physically, but mentally too.

 

_“We found him like that.”_

_“Where? Swimming in the fountain of youth?”_

_“No. We found him buried in a tomb of wolfsbane—in an Aztec temple in Mexico—underneath a church… in the middle of a town… that was destroyed by an earthquake.”_

_“…”_

_“You told me you were camping!”_

_…_

 

“So, you’re…” Derek was sitting in Stiles’ front passenger seat _again_ and this time conscious, beautiful, and… _Oh God, stop me._ Stiles sucked in his breath through his clenched teeth. His hands were gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles were white.

He realized Derek was waiting for an answer. “Stiles!” he puffed out the breath he inherently held in. Calming himself he sighed out, “Stiles. My name is Stiles.” It was like he was stumbling over his first crush—Lydia, all over again.

“Huh,” Derek huffed. He casually looked outside the window. Stiles tapped a finger on the steering wheel as he waited on a red light. He couldn’t calm himself down.

“This is rare,” Derek suddenly said. Stiles looked at the direction inside the jeep that Derek was looking at. “They’re um…” Derek’s finger stretched out and flicked at faded and dried out blue petal.

“ _Myosotis sylvatica,_ ” Stiles answered. He didn’t think anyone really noticed. It was dried up, lost most of its color and taped to his jeep’s air conditioner’s vent next to the radio.

“Forget-me-not,” Derek nodded with a slight smile. His gaze turned onto Stiles then. “Kinda girly, don’t you think?”

“Say that to the guy who bought it,” Stiles scoffed. Finally the light was green.

Yes he just told fucking Derek Hale to tell his fucking-arrogant-pompous self that he was girly. What the fuck did Stiles care? Apparently even TIME can be manipulated now. Screw the fucking universe and its laws. What laws?

_Scott’s house. Just go to Scott’s house._

“So it isn’t yours?” Derek wondered out loud as he pulled the single flower stem from out of the air vent. Stiles opened his mouth to say something but quickly closed it. “But it’s… air dried?”

“Preserved.” Stiles really should stop himself. “The word is preserved, alright?”

Someone stop him from talking. He was liable to do something stupid.

“Preserved,” he asserted again but quieter.

God… ANYONE, stop him.

There was a pause. It looked like Derek was suddenly considering what to say.

“You should pull over there,” Derek said as he pointed out the window of the jeep.

“What? Why?” Stiles asked as he signaled to make the turn into the wide alleyway.

“Stop the car.”

“What?” Stiles asked as he looked around. “Dude, we gotta get to Scott’s house.” There was no one around. It was a quiet neighborhood. Nothing and no one here. Obviously they were safe because Stiles wasn’t screaming or running for his life or ramming his jeep into some crazy behemoth.

Derek tossed the single forget-me-not onto the dash. Stiles held back and tried not to say anything. The flower meant a lot to him.

Then, Derek turned to Stiles and looked at him in that same way when he was waiting for Stiles to say whatever he needed to say. Apparently Derek mastered that damn cocky “so, say what you want to say” expression by the time he was a teenager.

“Pretty sure you’re aroused.”

“Whoa!” Stiles nearly shouted. He took in a deep breath. “What is this? Confrontation on the unsuspecting superhero?” He wasn’t going to bother looking at Derek’s little tilt of his brow with what Stiles unwittingly said. He would just be more embarrassed for having said it.

Stiles turned back to the steering wheel to turn on the ignition again.

Derek’s hand laid over his, stopping him from starting his jeep. “There’s nothing wrong with being gay.” Why was this beginning to sound like he was in denial and Derek was trying to accept his gayness? He didn’t have gayness though. At least he didn’t think so.

Stiles grumbled. He retrieved his hand as quickly and calmly as possible.

“I’m not gay,” Stiles defended himself. “Okay? I’m not.” Pretty sure he couldn’t be called gay when he got it up with girls and boys. To be more specific Malia and Derek… who just happened to be cousins. Oh God, he was screwed. Stiles felt himself getting a little overexcited again. “I just…” He didn’t even know how to begin to explain how screwed he was.

“What?”

“There’s this…” Stiles tried to find a way to tell Derek about Derek without telling him about Derek. Ah, this was a headache. “There’s this guy…”

“And this guy just happens to be…”

Stiles cleared his throat, shifted in his seat to adjust himself. Derek was usually very charming when he was quiet, or when he smiled. He was damn charming as a cheeky teenager though. Way too much so, he was almost oozing it when he smiled. Stiles almost wanted to smack him in the face for being so charming.

“Sex…” Stiles managed to squeeze out as he searched for a word to describe Derek and his relationship. “…Friend?” He wasn’t even sure if he meant Derek was a friend who he just happened to have sex with occasionally, or an actual sex-friend. Did Derek even have friends?

“Sex friend?” Teen Derek seemed piqued at the idea at least.

Stiles spluttered regardless. “We have casual sex.” Did he have to say it so casually to Stiles? It made it actually sound ridiculously real, and part of that sort of cut at him.

He realized he was looking right into those green eyes and it was stifling. Those same assessing eyes were just too…

“Okay, so…?”

“I mean,” Stiles turned back to the steering wheel. He gripped his hands on it tightly. “I mean,” Stiles repeated quickly, “we probably don’t have any obligations for each other…” he paused for a moment to think of another way to sell the point to Derek, “…or anything.” Well that was a failure. “He went missing and honestly I didn’t _need_ to—He probably has others-”

“-Want to try it?” Derek interrupted.

“Yeah,” Stiles said as he was still thinking on what to say. “Wait, I mean, no.” He looked back at Derek, a little taken aback by shock but then… “Yes?” He wasn’t sure how to answer exactly. “Are you-”

 

Derek kissed Stiles. At first their lips were just pressed together. With the experience Derek had before he realized Stiles was used to being mostly dominated and not taking the lead. He opened his mouth and licked along Stiles’ lips. Why did that feel so good?

Why did his lips feel so familiar? Derek grabbed Stiles’ shirt collar and pulled him closer. When Derek opened his eyes for a moment he saw Stiles reaching for something. While sticking his tongue into Stile’s mouth, he saw Stiles futilely grasping for his keys in the ignition. He leaned in a little towards Stiles and grabbed the keys, intertwining his fingers in the process with Stiles’ hand as he handed them to Stiles.

Stiles sucked in his breath as though he’d just been underwater. Derek tried not to laugh so he ended up just smiling.

“You…” Stiles was grasping for words, and some small part inside Derek loved seeing it. “I…”

“So do you pitch or catch?” Derek smirked. He’d never found someone so fascinating. He’d never seen someone so incapable to be still, to sit calmly. Stiles was a giant ball of nervous energy and it was actually kind of cute the way he couldn’t just not say a word about something. His attitude and sarcasm was entertaining.

Stiles spluttered. Obviously he was not ready to talk about sex at all with Derek. Then he wondered why Stiles had such an attitude anyways. Maybe his smaller stature or strength bothered him compared to other males? Wolves didn’t really care about size as much as power and the ability to lead.

Derek suddenly had a desire to touch Stiles all over. He glanced at the back of Stiles’ jeep, getting an idea. His mind was wondering and he couldn’t stop himself from the thought.

“Oh, I know that look,” Stiles groaned. Derek grinned as he grabbed Stiles by the collar again and yanked him through the crevice between the seats into the backseat of the jeep with him. “Derek! Not in my car!” he objected loudly as they struggled with their limbs to settle in the back.

Derek managed to smoothly top Stiles. He was yanking off Stiles’ sweater when Stiles started to call out to God.

“Not in my car…” he mumbled with his arms folded over his face.

“Did you want to try it in the alley in broad daylight?” Derek asked him. Not like he didn’t mind if it was with Stiles. For some reason he was doing something he really wasn’t expecting he could do with another guy.

Derek managed to unzip and yank Stiles’ pants and boxers down his hips. He was pushing up Stiles’ tee shirt and feeling each etch and tone of his body. It was different from the softness of a woman’s body. Rigid and hard, and shivering from his touch. He felt Stiles’ cock and hip jerk underneath him when he brushed his hand over Stiles’ abs towards his chest.

“Gonna give me a hand or am I going to do all the work?” Derek raised a challenging brow at Stiles. Stiles removed his arm from his face and just gaped at him for a good moment. With a nonchalant shrug Derek noncommittally commented, “Guess I’ll just go handle this myself outside.” Derek moved to leave the car with a faux dejected sigh.

“Fuck.” Stiles grabbed Derek’s arm and yanked him down before he could open the door.

Before long they were locked in a heated kiss, each lying on their side in the backseat of Stiles’ car as they removed clothing from each other. The both of them grabbed onto each other, holding each other tight as they were both mostly naked. It was like the closeness between them were still too much of a gap.

He’d never felt like this before. Not since Paige. Maybe even more. His heartbeat was increasing, he could feel the blood rushing to him. If he got too excited Derek wasn’t sure he would be able to control himself. Stiles was human, he was pretty sure, and part of him worried he wouldn’t be able to control his transformation if he got too excited.

Stiles moaned and for some reason Derek felt so good hearing it. Hearing another guy moan? Normally that was a cause of worry or distress. Maybe awkwardness. Sex was a little awkward, but all Derek felt from Stiles’ moans was pure, uninhibited sensuality.

“We need to stop,” Stiles said between kisses and groans.

“Really?” Derek put on a straight face. He learned from most of his family how to give a hardened poker face. Part of him relished in the reactions he got when he used it, but he wasn’t really good at controlling his emotions. In this instance he had the strength of will to do so because the pause it gave Stiles just now was an opportunity.

He took the chance and moved his hand inside Stiles’ boxers, grabbing the hardened member. Derek never thought he would hold another man’s length in his hand but there was a first time for everything.

“Oh God,” Stiles groaned as he threw back his head against the back of the seat. His back arched and his hips reached towards Derek’s own.

Derek pulled Stiles a little closer from pressing himself against the back of the seat. At this point he’d managed to shimmy down Stiles’ boxers and jeans to his knees. Enough room for one of his knees to get between Stiles’ bare thighs and coerce his legs to spread for him.

“Stop,” Stiles groaned the hundredth objection as he put his forehead against Derek’s shoulder. “I can’t…” he shook his head. This time Derek didn’t ignore it or scoff or laugh. Stiles genuinely sounded desperate. A lot like how Derek sounded earlier when he saw his house had been demolished into nothing and his family gone. Desperate and hurting. A pain so deep and yet so hollow and numb all you could do was try not to let the tears come.

“What’s wrong?” Derek asked quietly. He looked around the car to make sure no one was around to see through the jeep’s window. As if the car wasn’t uncomfortable enough there really wasn’t much around the alleyway to obstruct a passerby’s view inside the jeep.

“I just can’t...” Stiles gasped. His hands were tightly wrapped around Derek’s body, as if holding on to him for life. It was starting to get uncomfortable now, and he was beginning to cool his head. “I can’t just forget,” Stiles said as he pulled away from Derek’s shoulder and looked into his eyes. “I can’t forget again.”

“About…” Derek prompted with patience.

Stiles pressed his lips together tightly before relaxing again. He looked past Derek’s shoulder, probably towards the dried forget-me-not he kept in his car as remembrance. Somewhere deep in Derek’s core he felt something pull. And it felt like no matter how close he was to Stiles physically he wasn’t with Stiles at all.

“Is it Scott?”

Stiles’ eyes completely bulged, his mouth went slack, and he blanched. He shook himself out of it and stared at Derek like he was from a completely different universe. Derek did feel like he was from a completely different universe. He had no recent memories of what happened before today at all.

“No!” Stiles asserted. He started kicking and struggling until he managed to free himself, squirming his way over Derek into the driver’s seat. Seeing a mostly naked ass Stiles in the wake of that nervous energy wasn’t too bad. Derek smiled to himself before Stiles sat in the driver’s seat to pull up his pants. “Okay? It is not Scott.”

Stiles went on correcting his clothes and looking around for his keys and sweater while mumbling, “Jesus Christ. What is wrong with you? That’s never going to happen.” It wasn’t that strange if it was Scott who Stiles love.

“Well you two showed up together, and looked pretty close, and he _is_ an Alpha,” Derek said as he was zipping up his pants and straightening his shirt. It felt a little overlarge but he didn’t bother. If anything it might’ve just been someone’s borrowed clothes he was wearing and it felt comfortable enough.

“Scott and I have been through a lot, alright?” Stiles grumbled at Derek.

Derek squeezed through the crevice back into the front passenger seat. Stiles was going on casually about being attacked by Peter, and hunters, and Alphas, and a kitsune and everything between when suddenly he stopped. Derek tried to press him for more examples but Stiles just shook his head and started the car. The rest of the ride was Stiles and Derek bantering. But he couldn’t stop wondering why of all the guys he could have chosen to try that out with he chose skinny defenseless (human) Stiles.


	4. Time to Forget

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Incorporates scenes from Season 4 Episode 2 as well as the week between the end of 4x02 and 4x03. It brings up a clip of time from Season 1 Episode 9 when Derek and Stiles are in the jeep in front of the B.H. Hospital.  
> edited: 12/7/2015

_“We’re going to wait here for Scott. We’re going to sit quietly. We’re not going to_ talk _to anyone.”_

_“Do I talk to you?”_

_“No.”_

_“Fine.”_

_“Good.”_

_“Who’s going to talk to him?”_

_“Ah! Are you getting TALLER?”_

 

Stiles must be going crazy. Again.

After that awkward dinner and Scott’s stupid father, Agent Rafael McCall revealing about the Hale House fire, he and Derek had to literally run up to Scott’s room. Derek had immediately pressed Stiles up against the back of Scott’s bedroom door.

First it was that little make-out session they had in the back of Stiles’ jeep, and now they were doing what Derek was usually really good at. Putting Stiles up against a wall. Stiles really must be crazy because he couldn’t stop comparing the way young Derek moved and touched him to the memories of the Derek he knew.

Derek pulled away when Stiles tried to apologize. He couldn’t help feeling embarrassed because he’d expected something that clearly wasn’t there. Derek was usually rock hard when he pressed Stiles up against a wall, and he always made sure Stiles felt the evidence of it. This time was different. Derek was young and clearly sexually curious, but not interested in Stiles. Not in the same way the Derek who Stiles knew had been.

“Still ridiculously strong, aren’t you,” Stiles groaned just to spite Derek. He straightened himself with a huff. When he met Derek’s glare he sighed out his apology—might’ve been more of an excuse—for lying again.

Derek suddenly came at him, this time hitting his back against the door, his hand against Stiles’ throat.

“I will rip out your throat, Stiles,” Derek snapped. His eyes were glowing blue, and it was obvious from the way his face was slowly starting to stretch and warp that he wasn’t able to control himself.

“Well you’re not going to do that,” Stiles stumbled with his words, feeling the urgency to get away from Derek. It was evident Derek was focusing his anger on Stiles, and that he was trying to fight for control over his shift. He has never really seen Derek actually act out on his threat before, but he knew for certain that Derek even at this age was within the means to do so.

Derek tilted his brow at Stiles. God that was both scary and hot. Why’d Kate have to go and turn Derek into a teenager? Rugged, dark, moody Derek was easier to handle than emotionally unstable teenager Derek. Sexually easier.

“You aren’t,” Stiles swallowed the lump in his throat and said with bravado. “B-Because Scott’s dad is an FBI agent, and he’ll know without a doubt it was you if you…” Stiles couldn’t help feeling his knees turn to mush. “Whoa!” he jumped when Derek put his knee between Stiles’ legs, moving it up to brush against Stiles’ crotch. It wasn't done in a sexual way but Stiles still reacted and he felt stupid for that.

“You’ll still be dead,” Derek growled into his face. Stiles felt Derek’s claws growing out against his skin. It was no joking matter, Derek was ready to kill him whether he could control himself or not.

“Okay, okay…” Stiles needed to buy time and find a way to calm down Derek before the kid full-blown went out of control. He wasn’t exactly like Scott, who Stiles had enough trouble teaching control.

Then suddenly Stiles remembered something. Something he hadn’t realized Derek did often when Stiles felt like he was losing his breath and going into a panic attack.

_…_

_“I, uh, I read once that holding your breath could stop a panic attack… So when I kissed you—you held your breath.”_

_…_

“Lydia is a genius,” Stiles sighed with relief along with the memory.

“Who is Lydia?”

Before Derek could react any further Stiles grabbed Derek’s shoulder and pulled him in for a kiss. For a moment Stiles wasn’t sure what he was doing, until Derek’s mouth opened up and Stiles took the chance to deepen the kiss.

 _My God, is this how it feels to kiss someone with all you’ve got?_ Stiles never really kissed someone like his life depended on it until now. Hell he didn’t really have much experience kissing at all. Virgin until recently this year and all. Still, kissing Derek and being allowed to kiss Derek like nothing could stop him felt amazing. Indescribable, really.

He felt Derek’s hand around his throat go slack, sliding down to his shoulder. Derek pressed closer to Stiles and kissed him hard, his knee kneading into Stiles’ crotch. The ministration felt good. Stiles had to try and pause the kiss to stop himself from making a weird sound. He was usually really good with not making weird sounds during these kinds of moments.

Suddenly Derek pulled away and flipped Stiles facing towards the door. He pressed against Stiles back, and in mere seconds it all cooled down. Again, he felt that Derek was pressing into him but the evidence wasn’t there. Derek wasn’t hard. He didn’t want Stiles. Not the way Stiles desperately needed the Derek who’d left him a small bouquet of forget-me-nots.

“Stop lying to me!” Derek snapped as he pounded the bottom of his fist inches next to Stiles’ head. When Stiles glanced at his fist he saw that the claws had retracted. “Just what kind of relationship do you have with Scott?”

“Scott and I-” Stiles started to say but was interrupted again.

“-And who is Lydia?”

“She’s a banshee,” Stiles answered quickly. The anger in Derek’s voice would be cause for concern if Derek started changing again. All he had to do now was comply with his answers and demand to keep him calm.

“And you and Scott?”

“We’re just friends!” He swore to God they were just friends—brothers, even. Why the hell did Derek think otherwise?

“I don’t believe you!” Derek snapped. He moved away from Stiles. _“I want to talk to the Alpha!”_

Stiles turned around from the door to face him. Stiles could barely hold back the need to break down. Derek couldn’t remember Stiles. _“I’ll talk to Scott.”_ And he couldn’t—didn’t trust Stiles.

_“Okay. I’m going to go get him. My phone’s downstairs. Going to call him real quick.”_

It took all Stiles had, even when he doubled back thinking Derek might’ve run off, to act as normal as possible. Would anyone be able to tell the difference? He was told he was usually very overactive, dramatic, and unable to sit still… He hoped the way he was shaking didn’t come off as different from his usual.

Scott answered his call on the third ring, and Stiles was trying really hard not to freak out in the kitchen. That probably wasn’t working out really well because Rafael was eyeing him in that piqued interest kind of way while standing against the sink. Stiles couldn’t calm himself when Rafael was just standing there staring at him so he decided to glare at the man, which didn’t do much but incite a smile before the man left.

“Stiles?”

Scott’s voice breathed a sigh of relieve into Stiles’ own. “Derek knows,” Stiles released the words from his chest.

There was a pause, as if Scott needed to think about what to say or what to do next. “And?” was the word Scott chose. Stiles was pretty sure he was making a face like he couldn’t believe that was all Scott came up with because Rafael suddenly laughed somewhere unseen.

He looked around the kitchen but couldn’t find where Rafael might’ve been watching him. Maybe it was just Stiles being blinded by the fact that Derek knew about the Hale House fire, and the impeding fact that Derek didn’t know Stiles. Or that he mostly needed to concentrate on regulating his breathing.

_“Kate?”_

“Stiles? Are you okay?”

_“Hey, Handsome.”_

“Not really, no,” Stiles grumbled. He walked towards the stairs, finally noticing Raphael had pulled out a toolbox somewhere and was working on fixing something in the house.

“So?”

“He wants to talk to you,” Stiles managed as he began pacing in the hallway around the stairs. “Scott he doesn’t remember me.”

_“Been a long time.”_

There was another pause. Stiles waited. He knew Scott knew something. Stiles only had Scott as a crutch in times like these, because Scott was the only person who knew about him and Derek.

_“Longer than you think.”_

“Tell me, Scott.”

“Peter said Kate took him to the time when he trusted her,” Scott finally said. Stiles stood still. No. That’s impossible. Derek wouldn’t.

With bravado he didn’t really have Stiles climbed the stairs in twos. He denied the possibility of Derek trusting Kate during a time like this to Scott. It didn’t convince his friend.

“Are you two outside?”

He cut Scott off. _“No, he’s in your room, he’ll be totally fine.”_

Or so Stiles was saying, then he watched as that slut made out Scott’s window. Derek was gone. Stiles was shocked at first, then completely crushed. He felt it all weigh on him after he got off the phone with Scott.

He really tried to understand. He really did. He knew that Derek didn’t remember him—didn’t _know_ him. He accepted that. The reality was that Derek chose Kate over Stiles. And now he knew. Now he _really_ knew how Derek felt watching Stiles run around possessed by a kitsune. How he felt when Stiles forgot what kind of relationship they had, and how he must have felt watching Stiles freak out knowing he would never look his way for help.

Stiles felt it all and felt worse than just that feeling of abandonment and emptiness. How could Derek ever forgive him? He chose Malia over Derek during that time with the kitsune possession. Completely let himself forget Derek during the time. Now he still couldn’t choose between Malia and Derek. He didn’t know how.

 

_…_

_“Didn’t you hear that? That was Scott. I just heard Scott-”_

_“-Tell me!”_

_“I don’t know! And I don’t care!”_

_…_

Derek felt it as he fought the monster from attacking Scott. His mind didn’t feel clouded. Nothing felt strange. He didn’t feel lost at all. He knew what he needed to do and he was willing to risk his life for it. It wasn’t the anger that drove him. It was the need for power--the _reason_ for power. The need to protect an Alpha, to protect his own kind. To protect Scott.

He front flipped over one of the bone-armor-cladded monsters, landing on one knee. The rush had hit him just as the monsters ran off. The adrenaline was rushing through him as he stood up. He heard Scott call out to him and he slowly turned around.

“Your eyes…” Scott rasped as he struggled to stand.

Derek tried not to say anything. Memories were suddenly appearing in his head. Much like tree branches suddenly realizing they were all connected to the same root. He waited and then probably made some kind of shocked expression when Scott told him his eyes were yellow.

Derek roared as he turned to find Kate’s scent. The memories all appeared behind his eyes as he ran back towards the Vault.

 

Stiles woke up gasping for breath, only to realize his hand had been pressed over his mouth. He’d gotten into the habit at one point during the kitsune possession to cover his mouth so he wouldn’t scream in his sleep. There had been countless times his father had rushed into his room because of it.

He sighed with relief to find it was one of the rare nights Malia wasn’t in his bed. Out of instinct he looked around his bed, covers and room. There wasn’t any point, he wasn’t going to find Derek there. When Derek had reverted he seemed to have forgotten he’d ever had sex with Stiles, or for that matter that any kind of relationship between them existed except the one where they knew each other because of shared interest in Scott.

Stiles felt around until he found the dried forget-me-not under his pillow. Calming himself with slow breathing Stiles laid down again. Putting the single flower against his lips Stiles closed his eyes, one hand under his head as he thought back on the first time Derek kissed him.

It was the time when Derek and he were investigating “the Alpha” (Peter) in the Beacon Hills Hospital. Because Scott’s mother came up from Danny’s secret master tracing skills they were staking it out. Derek was in Stiles’ jeep and they were waiting outside the hospital when Derek suddenly grabbed him. Before Stiles could realize what was happening Derek’s tongue was roving inside his mouth.

Derek had bit the bottom of Stiles’ lips and pulled at it seconds before sticking his tongue back into Stiles’ mouth again. Stiles tried to get away, but all that did was force Derek to pull him in closer.

“Whoa,” Stiles had managed when Derek pulled away. They both had turned to stake out the hospital again. “Whoa,” he sighed.

 _“Oh, and another thing,”_ Derek had said before smacking Stiles’ head against the steering wheel.

Stiles opened his eyes, the memory fading away as he focused on the shadows in his room.

“Never got to ask him why he kissed me.” Derek kissed him that first time with no explanation. His teenager-self kissed-slash-made out with him without explanation either. Twice Derek had messed with Stile. That was all it was apparently. Messing Stiles up.

“You got kissed by a guy?”

Stiles sat up and looked towards the direction of the voice in his room. He found Derek standing by the torn down board of thoughts he’d used until recently. Derek approached, stripping off his leather jacket and throwing it at Stiles.

Stiles didn’t hide the fact that as it came over his face he took a whiff of Derek’s scent on it. Woodland and windblown. Very Derek and not as good as Derek’s scent when they were skin to skin.

“So?” Derek urged—more like commanded—as he stood by Stiles’ bed. His arms crossed over his muscular chest in a kind of imposing-waiting pose. Stiles’ mouth was probably gaping but he didn’t really bother fixing it.

“Um,” he looked away and got out of bed. He laid Derek’s jacket on his bed as he tried to shuffle around Derek. “Well, in… in my dream,” Stiles stumbled with a weak lie. He sighed, knowing it was ridiculous and that Derek would know right away he’d lied.

“Oh,” Derek nodded, sounding like he didn’t really care. Stiles swallowed the lump in his throat but it wouldn’t go down. His mouth was dry and he couldn’t help but lick his lips.

Derek took a step in the same direction as Stiles when he tried to bypass him. He took a step in the other direction and Derek mirrored him. He kept coming up against Derek’s broad chest and it was starting to get stifling.

“Could you just…!” Stiles was starting to get frustrated. He tried to move around Derek but that didn’t really work since Derek just kept stepping in the same direction to blockade him. “Okay, what is it? What do you want?” he finally snapped. His attitude was kicking in as his only defense mechanism, and Stiles wasn’t going to bother being self-conscious about it.

Derek slightly nodded towards the bed again. “Check the pocket,” he instructed. Stiles turned towards his bed and looked at Derek’s jacket again. He grabbed the jacket with a sarcastic flourish and reached his hand into the pocket. “Interesting story,” Derek then said as Stiles paused at the touch inside. “For days I thought I remembered everything perfectly fine.” This time Derek stepped back and took a few steps towards Stiles’ desk before turning towards Stiles again. “Then I put on that jacket.”

“So?”

“I remembered that little…” Derek looked up as he thought of a way to phrase what he wanted to say, “…episode we had in your car.”

Cautiously Stiles asked, “What little episode?” He hoped Derek wasn’t listening to his heartbeat because it was beating rapidly at the potential of Derek remembering.

“And I wondered why exactly I would have that in my pocket when I haven’t worn it since the night I took it off,” Derek finished his story. “The night I was captured.”

Stiles yanked his hand out of Derek’s jacket pocket. He looked at his clenched fist, staring at the familiar single flower. It was very similar to the one somewhere on his bed actually.

“ _Myosotis sylvatica_ ,” Derek stated. He grabbed Stiles’ hand holding the flower.

“Forget-me-not,” Stiles rasped. He felt like running away and hiding. He didn’t like being confronted like this at all.

“Toss it.”

“What?”

Stiles couldn’t believe what he just heard.

“Forget the guy that gave you those flowers,” Derek said to him. He took the flower from Stiles’ hand and crushed it in his own, throwing it out the open window he likely snuck in through. “You’re obviously waiting for a guy you can’t stop remembering, but you should stop.”

_“Forget me not,” I thought you said,_ _  
and your gaze was straight and true._

Stiles didn’t want to believe what he was hearing. He stared at Derek’s mouth moving, heard the sounds and took in the words but he couldn’t believe in them.

“You have Malia, and that guy,” Derek looked up and paused as if he was thinking of the best way to not kill Stiles with words. “He probably forgot all about you.”

Stiles pushed Derek away with one hand. He took in a deep breath as he stepped away from Derek.

“It’s Danny, right?” Oh God, first it was Scott and now it was Danny. Danny wasn’t even in Beacon Hills anymore! “The guy that was here the first time you made me pretend to be your cousin. He’s gay, right?”

“Are you trying to…” Stiles was looking for the word while pushing away his pain, “to be my post-breakup-cheer-up crew?” There really wasn’t a word for what he was looking to call Derek at that point.

 

_I wondered, by your garden's edge,_ _  
could I disremember you?_

 

“Why should I care about that?” Derek shrugged at Stiles.

“I really thought you were going in a different direction with that story.” Stiles gasped for breath. He needed to regulate his breathing to stop the anxiety. He used to get panic attacks after his mother died but now it was different. It was whenever someone he cared about put him in a corner.

“I saw you the night before I was captured.” Derek grabbed the leather jacket. “Don’t really know how I ended up with it in my jacket but honestly you really shouldn’t hold out on the guy.” Derek shrugged on his jacket, rolling those powerful shoulders like it was natural to do that inches from a guy he used to fuck.

 

_The light refracted at your heart:_ _  
a warmth that radiated through._

 

He watched Derek go back to the window. “Stiles,” he looked Stiles in the eyes then. “Time to forget.” He put one leg over the windowsill and was about to duck under the window to leave. Derek paused though and Stiles was still holding on to a glimmer of hope. “I hate to say this, but just focus on Malia.” Then Derek slipped out the window and disappeared into the night.

Stiles groaned. He flopped onto his bed and picked up the forget-me-not he had earlier. He stared at it again before putting it against his lips once more like a chaste kiss.

“How can I?”

 

_“No, I dare not let them fade:_ _  
those powdered hues of pink and blue.”_

 

Derek made him burn from just looking. It was different with Malia. Stiles was a guy it wasn’t that hard not to get hard, but with Malia he was normally rather calm. He cared for her but he didn’t know whether it was love like how he’d crushed over Lydia since the third-freaking-grade. He didn’t expect Malia to really care for him or love him at all. But with Derek he didn’t have to worry or think. Things happened and Stiles could just accept it.

To ask Stiles to forget him, to forget it all happened was impossible. Not when that had happened and that he remembered. It was cruel enough knowing Derek’s memory didn’t hold the times when Derek fucked him. It scared him how the distance continuously grows between Derek and him.

“Time to forget…” Stiles pulled up the flower from his lips and looked at it in the dark. “But I can’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Forget me not,” I thought you said,  
> and your gaze was straight and true.  
> I wondered, by your garden's edge,  
> could I disremember you?  
> The light refracted at your heart:  
> a warmth that radiated through.  
> “No, I dare not let them fade:  
> those powdered hues of pink and blue.”  
> \- Excerpt from “Forget-Me-Not” poem by Giles Watson


	5. Theme of You

Derek couldn’t sit still. He knew how dire the situation was. He also knew things could get worse. His problem was a small part of the bigger picture. Still, he couldn’t get over it.

He was remembering the way Stiles naturally expected him to be able to hold down Brett. Derek did try but all they could do was glance quickly at one another. Stiles didn’t say anything, didn’t comment much really. He probably didn’t realize the reason Derek couldn’t hold down Brett was because he was losing his power after he’d reverted from what Kate did to him.

Derek just couldn’t help thinking how he was there to help but he couldn’t help at all. How powerless he felt, and how shocked he was when Peter showed up to knock out Brett from rampaging. He remembered Peter staring at him, noticing how he’d been scratched. Derek waited too, sinking in the realization that healing took longer than it did before. Peter looked between Derek and Derek’s slowly healing arm. Likewise Derek looked between Peter and his arm. Slowly but sure his abilities were disappearing much like the scratch on his arm.

First it had been his eyes. He thought maybe it was just the color of his eyes. Maybe—somehow—because he’d been reverted to his younger years he might have purified the blood that was on his hands. But then his sense of smell had gone and now his strength. Derek was beginning to realize his abilities were fading. Almost like how his memories had faded bit by bit when he was unconscious in that tomb Kate had put him in.

He recalled parts of it. The void. The unknown. It was a lot like being in space all on your own for far too long. Now he could see why going to sleep was so hard for Stiles. The psychological backlash from what happened after closing one’s eyes was harder to handle. It was traumatizing. _When I close my eyes will I really wake up?_ Derek often caught himself feeling and thinking that way.

He wanted to help but he didn’t have anything to offer but his knowledge. All he could do was guide these teenagers who were desperately trying to save everyone. Derek just didn’t know how exactly. He just had to try.

 

_“You don’t think we should tell Derek?”_

_“No.”_ His response came quietly. _“No,”_ he said it again. _“No, of course we have to tell him…”_ Stiles stood up from his best friend’s bedroom floor and turned to look out the window. He should tell Scott. After all this time he had to tell Scott. It wasn’t like his friend wasn’t already going through his own problems, it wasn’t like Scott hadn’t already known. It was just difficult to say but needed to be said.

Turning around he instead said, _“I’m just saying some of that money’s Peter’s, right?”_ Stile found something else as an excuse—and it was a legitimate reason!—but he couldn’t tell Scott that he found it hard being next to Derek, to be standing there, working together, seeing each other and yet… Instead he brought up another reason why they couldn’t return the money—much needed money—back to Derek yet. Why they shouldn’t talk to him… yet.

Well yes he could always let Scott handle Derek like he has been recently. Yes Stiles could always come up with some grand “Robin becomes Nightwing” monologue and encourage Scott to do it alone. But he wouldn’t. Couldn’t.

Solemnly and almost naively his friend asked, _“So we should give Derek his money back. But not Peter?”_ He quickly denied it, he hadn’t said that. He knew what Scott meant and what Scott had really wanted to ask. It was a question of his integrity. _“Stiles, what_ are _you saying?”_

Stiles really didn’t know. What was he saying? What was he TRYING to say? _Just tell him_ , Stiles told himself. Closing his eyes tightly he tried to muster the strength to say it. Now wasn’t the right time when they were in such dire situations but it had to be said.

“I don’t…” Stiles started but swallowed his words. Scott waited patiently for him to speak. It was always this way. This was their routine. One of them freaked out and the other calmly didn’t. “I don’t want to see him,” Stiles finally spoke, feeling all parts of him shiver. “Being with him, near him, by him…”

“Who, Peter?” Scott asked with that dumb confused look on his face that Allison once told Stiles was cute. The things that he knew that he didn’t need to know about his friend’s relationships amounted to the things that made his stomach curl and hurl out of his mouth.

“Yes, Peter,” Stiles said as if that was who he really meant and then immediately went, “Of course not. Derek. I’m talking about Derek.” Who else in the world was there?

“Okay!” Scott snapped back at him, still sitting on the floor but holding his hands up as a sign to stop. “Why don’t you want to see Derek?”

“You know why!” Stiles rolled his eyes. Scott already knew and if he didn’t he had some sort of idea. “The guy doesn’t even remember what we-” Stiles stopped short of finishing his sentence. He and Derek was never really anything. Not at the beginning, not in the middle, not at the end, and not now. “We…” he tried again but couldn’t find sufficient words to describe what he and Derek might have been considered.

“You…” Scott prompted after Stiles let the silence fill.

Scott looked up at Stiles and Stiles stared back. He didn’t know what to say. Then they heard the sounds from the bottom of the stairs. Malia burst in to tell them what she and Derek had found.

_“Then where’s Derek?”_

Derek had taken Braeden, a mercenary Derek had hired to the hospital. Malia mentioned Braeden was a woman. He didn’t want to venture asking if she had been a beautiful woman or why Derek was so concern for her. Derek didn’t even seem to remember Stiles, hell he had even once doubted that Stiles was so evil fox spirit… Stiles was nothing but convenient for Derek.

That night before the PSAT, Stiles stayed up unable to stop thinking. He didn’t want to sleep tonight but he had to. He needed rest.

“Go to sleep kiddo,” his father popped in and said. He could see the relief in his father’s eyes. Stiles didn’t go to sleep afraid anymore, and he didn’t wake up screaming as often or at all most nights. His father could afford to be a bit more relaxed now.

Stiles turned over onto his side and curled in the middle of the bed. First the memories assaulted him in the dark, and then the heavy emotions, and finally Derek’s words to him: “Time to forget.”

 

_I’d rather have the theme of you_

_To thread my nights and days,_

 

Asleep, Stiles’ memories became both nightmares and dreams of desires. The first time they had sex was not particularly popular but he dreamt about it anyway. It started off with the memory of the Kanima at the school’s pool. First Derek had been paralyzed and both of them had ended up in the school pool. Derek was his usual arrogant self which annoyed Stiles enough to drop Derek in the pool and grab for his phone to call Scott. He held him up for two hours in the water to save his life, because instead of doing something smart he had thought Derek’s life was more important.

Only the Kanima was afraid of water which happened to be the safest place for Derek who couldn’t move. Then Derek had brought up how if Stiles didn’t trust Derek then Derek couldn’t trust Stiles. So being contrary as he was, Stiles decided to push Derek off and go for this phone. If he could say that then he should trust in Stiles too.

When the phone call hadn’t worked he went back for Derek, because God only know how long a werewolf could hold their breath. It was how it all started.

That night Derek snuck into his room—again. Stiles was in the middle of switching into his pajamas when Derek cleared his throat. Freaking out Stiles tripped over his pants between his ankles and fell ungracefully towards his closet door. Somehow managing to right himself Stiles spluttered and tried to ask Derek what he was doing there while simultaneously trying to pull up his recently dropped pants.

Derek had shrugged as if it didn’t really matter and he didn’t really know. He had on that cocky almost-smile as if waiting for Stiles to make his next move.

Eventually Derek cocked his brow and said, “Weren’t you taking those off?” Stiles paused, jaws dropped, and looked at his pants then at Derek. Men did not talk to each other about dropping pants. Derek had approached and Stiles immediately tensed. Grabbing Stiles’ pajamas he said, “Batman, really?”

Snatching back his sleepwear Stiles turned towards his closet. “Batman’s awesome!”

“Uhhuh,” Derek had uttered noncommittally. “I’ll uh…” Derek pretended to be considerate as he started to turn, “Give you some privacy.” That last part was said in a patronizing way.

Stiles had suggested, “Next time just knock.” He started to change out of his clothes again as he muttered to himself things he’d hoped Derek couldn’t hear. Knowing Derek and his werewolf senses the man had heard every last side of attitude Stiles gave him. “What are you doing here anyways? Here for payback?”

“Something like that.”

“That’s just petty,” Stiles commented as he pulled off his shirt. He walked past Derek and pulled on his long sleeve to sleep in. “Just leave me alone. If you’re here to bite me or something I’m going to tell you I’m _definitely_ not going to be in your pack.”

Derek had made a sound that almost sounded like a laugh or a chuckle. “Right, yeah I need _you_ in my pack,” Derek had mused sarcastically as he followed Stiles to the bed. It was then that Stiles became keenly aware of Derek who stood right behind him.

This was where Stiles remembered their first kiss in his Jeep—and how Derek had slammed his forehead into the steering wheel. Derek had kissed him, and pushed him against the wall instead of the bed. Stiles remembered being afraid but he also remembered the excitement that had course through his entire body. He had hated how Derek could elicit a reaction from him with those rough mostly stolen kisses.

 

_I’d rather have the dream of you_

_With faint stars glowing,_

 

“You know why I’m here, Stiles,” Derek had whispered into his ear, crushing his body against Stiles’ tinier one. “We’ve played this game before, and I’m tired of games. Especially after tonight.” Derek hovered closer, Stiles swallowed nervously.

The pool incident undoubtedly pissed him off, and Stiles didn’t feel sorry about it. His body on the other hand reacted to the memory of holding Derek’s overly warm body against his own in the water. Heat spread throughout his body where he remembered Derek’s had been held next to his in the pool. Stiles gazed into Derek’s eyes but it slowly moved down his stubble jaw to his lips that had recently kissed him and reminded him of the pool. Stiles flicked his gaze away quickly.

Sure, before they had kissed before and Derek had randomly appeared and pushed Stiles against a wall and felt him up too. Eventually Stiles had even risked humiliation by kissing and touching Derek back. It had felt exhilarating, nice even. It kept Stiles up all night feeling embarrassed and humiliated afterwards. All of it always left Stiles wanting and self-loathing.

“Games, what games?” Stiles asked, staring at Derek’s lips again. Very sex lips.

“I need you to tell me yes.”

“Yes?”

“You are what, 16?” Derek finally mentioned. He wasn’t even answering anything Stiles asked or said but he was still here saying stuff Stiles didn’t understand. What kind of conversation was that? “Not like saying yes will make a difference, but I need a yes.” Stiles finally understood. Yes to sex.

“Oh my god, is that some kind of code of conduct thing?” Stiles asked, feeling his mind blown beyond proportions again. Derek needed consent when he was always taking kisses from him? What kind of stupid bull was that? “You know it won’t make a difference because I’m 16, right?” Besides, Stiles had remembered that Derek was making his own pack and there was another 16-year-old hottie willing and waiting.

Derek rolled his eyes. “No one will know if you don’t say anything. So yes or no.” Stiles must have blushed or done something because it had prompted Derek to kiss him again. Hard and brutal, and for some reason that seemed appropriate as a way to describe what sex was with Derek before he’d even experienced it.

Stiles nodded.

“Say it.”

The tone in Derek’s voice was tense and difficult. It was the same tone Derek used when he felt like he was at the end of his rope and wanted to beat Stiles up for asking stupid questions. There had been a few times where he had experienced Derek wanting to rip out his throat.

“Yes.”

_I’d rather have the want of you,_

_The rich, elusive taunt of you_

 

Derek pushed him against the wall again and started to undress Stiles again. He felt embarrassed being naked and in the cold of his room but all Derek was doing was unzipping his pants. Then he saw the bulge poking out of his jeans and Stiles looked back up, eyes to the ceiling.

“Dear God tell me that isn’t going where I think it is,” he mumbled to himself. Stiles closed his eyes as Derek nuzzled his neck, and the man’s stubble tickled him. Derek pulled Stiles’ body closer and wrapped his legs around those defined hips.

“Not tonight,” Derek whispered into Stiles’ ear. Derek leaned Stiles against the wall again. “Just this.” Derek’s hips started moving and their cocks rubbed against each other. Stiles’ went from half-mast to hard in seconds.

The coldness receded as heat and friction built up between them. Stiles felt awkward with his legs around Derek’s hips but whenever he tried to put them down Derek grabbed his knees and kept them pressed around his hips. Derek kissed him roughly and laved at his neck and shoulder. Stiles mostly remembered feeling more frustrated than he’d been before, and frightened that he would make some noise and his father would find them out. His door wasn’t even locked.

Derek had seemed unfazed and kept going to his own agenda. He knew when to move his hand that had both their members in its grasp. He knew how to jut his hips and send a wave of shock through Stiles’ unsuspecting overheated body. He knew how to do too much and Stiles clung to him for dear life trying not to make a noise.

That night all they did was frottage and Stiles had pathetically enjoyed it. Really enjoy it. Derek had been rough and wouldn’t let Stiles do anything but hold on. His hot hand holding both of their members together, his hips moving against Stiles pressed against the wall, and his other hand flat against Stiles’ lower back like a cushion. It had been hot and frustratingly crazy but when they came Stiles had lost himself.

He’d gasped loudly and turned into mush in Derek’s powerful arms. Whatever had happened next Stiles probably wouldn’t have even cared. That night Stiles slept well but he didn’t really know how he got back into his batman pajamas or his bed.

 

Stiles woke up relatively refreshed because of the memory. It was a weird sensation waking up refreshed and with a hard-on. Stiles spent that morning in the shower trying to get off before his father woke up. It had been very difficult until the thought of Malia made him scorched. Then he remembered Malia was also Peter’s daughter which turned him off. His stomach did various twists and turns like it wanted him to throw up stomach acid with the thought of Peter. Then recalled Peter was Derek’s uncle.

“Shit…”

He came with just the thought of Derek’s eyes gazing at him. As he stared at the evidence in his hand being washed away by the spray of the shower he hated himself. Pitiful. Pathetic. Weak.

“Time to forget,” Stiles whispered, knowing he couldn’t. Stiles made a fist as he cursed and hated himself. “But how can I?”

 

_Forever and forever and forever unconfessed_

_Than claim the alien comfort_

_Of any other’s breast_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I'd rather have the theme of you  
> To thread my nights and days,  
> I'd rather have the dream of you  
> With faint stars glowing,  
> I'd rather have the want of you,  
> The rich, elusive taunt of you  
> Forever and forever and forever unconfessed  
> Than claim the alien comfort  
> Of any other's breast. "  
> \- excerpt from "Choice" by Angela Morgan


End file.
